My Little Bird Part I
by Soleila Verdent
Summary: More than one hundred years before Aang is found frozen in ice, the Air Nomads wandered the world, free as birds. But as the cruelty of the Fire Nation draws near, a young Airbender named Alimah will discover her destiny in the mysterious universe.
1. The Celebration of Avatar Yangchen

Alimah: skilled in dance or music

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor am I in any way affiliated with Michael Dante DiMartino or Bryan Konietzko. This story is purely fan-made.

**My Little Bird ** Part I

_Chapter One_

Alimah sits high in the saddle of her camel-goat, eyes gazing with anticipation towards the horizon. The strong winter winds blow her crimson headveil behind her, and her long golden earrings clink musically in the breeze.

"Iyutyut!" she cries, digging her heals into the wooly flank of her mount, her beloved Baqir. Urging him forward, she soon catches up with her younger sisters Fatimah and Farimah, who sit together upon their own large camel-goat. Her sisters, twins in appearance and heart, perch quietly in the saddle, but their eyes are dancing excitedly. Alimah knows her eyes are just as wild, dancing like her headveil in the wind. She longs to shout and sing with joy, for their clan's caravan is approaching the Kum Wadi, the gathering place for the clans of Air Nomads who wander Bunmaki. Though they now pass silently through the Aymen, a sacred stretch of desert, Alimah knows that soon the air will be filled with jubilant song and the musical words of the reunited.

The sun is slowly sliding down the sky, and the clouds are fiery and glowing. The white desert sand glows quietly in the sunset, reflecting the blazing colors of the heavens. Alimah shakes her bangles impatiently, for she is growing tired of the endless reverent silence as they pass through the Aymen, where the first swallowtail was born. Her two sisters shake their bangles back at her, and soon they three girls are engaged in a full bangle-jangling war. They stifle giggles and hide their smiling, pearl teeth behind their chocolate hands. Soon, soon, Alimah thinks. Soon, soon, the gusty winds seem to whisper into her ears. Soon, soon, they will arrive at the camp, and the merry festivities will begin. Soon, soon, she will be able to dance in the wind and create the melodies that beat in her heart.

Just as the first silver star creeps into the sapphire sky, Alimah and her clan spot the burning bonfires of the encampment. Now beyond the sacred silence of the Aymen, Alimah gives a whoop of delight and boots Baqir's flanks wildly. All around her, camel-goats are beginning to gallop towards the camp, their nostrils flaring in the chilly night air. The older Nomads, all Airbenders, throw lotus petals into the air, and send them soaring towards the camp on gusts of wind. All around her, perfumed breezes swirl, and Alimah feels her heart swell with bliss.

Seated around a great bonfire, the air is quiet at last. After hours of unpacking and setting up their tents, of searching for friends and distant relatives, of the embraces and happy tears, of hearty laughter ringing out into the night, the Air Nomads are hushed. Standing on a raised platform in the middle of the bonfire is a male Airbender, the blue arrow running through his long hair and down his bare back. Everyone sits in the meditation pose; hands poised together, eyes closed, as the man chants the slow, rhythmic mantras of the Airbenders. Tonight is the celebration of Avatar Yangchen, an Airbender who gave many blessings to the Air Nomads, even those who lived the Fire Nation. On the night of the winter solstice, all Air Nomads gather in honor of her great name, to revere her power and beauty.

Kalden, the ancient language of the Airbenders pervades the sweet clouds of smoke that hover above the Nomads. Alimah picks up bits and pieces of the guttural, ancient tongue, but she cannot speak it fluently. On the Fire Nation province-island of Bunmaki, the Air Nomads speak a patois of Kalden and Kotoba, the dialect of the Fire Nation language found in the southern province-islands. Kurukulla, a tongue of beautiful rolling r's, smooth vowels, and high-pitched i's, unites the Air Nomads of Bunmaki, despite the fact that they rarely come together.

The steady, profound mantra soon begins to murmur down, and as the last word of the prayer slips from the lips of the Airbender, he draws several multicolored ribbons from inside his draping sleeve. Into the dark air the ribbons spring, and the man uses his bending to make them twist and turn, leaping like the flames of the fire below. The ribbons dive over the heads of the nomads sitting on the ground below and swirl back into the sky. As the Airbender raises his arms and curves his hand in a descending gesture, the vivid ribbons fall gracefully into the bonfire below. As the ribbons slowly begin to shrivel and smolder in the white ashes, the silence surrounding the bonfire is broken; the Air Nomads stand and talk softly amongst themselves.

Alimah groans softly at her sore backside, made no better from the long hour of prayer in honor of Avatar Yangchen. The pointless droning of the ancient Airbenders, she thinks to herself with aversion, as she ambles over to one of her friends from another clan.

"Safiyyah!" she shouts over the now loud purr of conversation. A tall, lithe girl, hair trickling down to her knees, turns at the sound of her name. Both girls run to embrace each other; it has been a year since the last celebration of Avatar Yangchen, the last time they have seen each other.

"Oh, Alimah! You've grown so much taller!" declares Safiyyah, amber eyes glittering with joy at seeing her good friend.

"And you, dear Safiyyah, are now of marriageable age?!" exclaims Alimah, in a mockingly scandalous voice. Her eyes brush over the swirling pattern of dye painted onto Safiyyah's cheeks and the orange shade her lips had been tinted, the signs of a woman who could be courted. Though most Air Nomads living in the Fire Nation waited until they were fifteen or sixteen years of age to begin courtship, some clans had different rituals. I wonder, mused Alimah, if Safiyyah's lack of Airbending skill has anything to do with her early introduction to the world of women. Most girls spent their teenage years before marriage perfecting their Airbending, but if someone didn't have the talent or desire to continue with her studies…

Alimah's reverie was interrupted as Safiyyah nudged her in the side with a bony elbow.

"My father's already gotten a marriage proposal from a certain young man of my clan. His name's Kahil; he's sitting over there with the old Benders," said Safiyyah coyly, a joyful, demure smile on her ginger lips.

"He's ever so handsome!" exclaimed Alimah, excited for her friend and this new life she had begun. "But why is he sitting with those old _safwans_? All they ever do is contemplate the teachings of the Temple Benders."

The Temple Benders: Airbenders who live in one of the four Air temples, one in each quarter of the world. For eons, Airbenders had been residing in these holy shrines and practicing the ancient Airbending practices. Alimah had heard that many Airbender children traveled to the Air temples to receive training. As if their own clans could not teach them as well, she thought with contempt. She knew that they ways of the Air Nomads wandering through the Fire Nation islands were different than those of the Temple Benders, and from comments muttered under breath, from oaths sworn as her clan trekked in the deserts, from heated conversations held round the campfires, that there was a certain enmity between the holy Temple Benders and the Air Nomads of the Fire Nation, whose ways were wild as the desert birds. It was this hostility that she had inherited from her parents and clan members, that she carried lightly with her, and unsheathed as she spoke with Safiyyah.


	2. The Story of Altair

"I don't really know," sighed Safiyyah despondently

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor am I in any way affiliated with Michael Dante DiMartino or Bryan Konietzko. This story is purely fan-made.

"I don't really know," sighed Safiyyah despondently. "I've heard that he can be a bit, a bit, well, controlling. My older cousin, Farina, told me that he plans to try and revive the ways of the Temple Benders here, and start a new Council here, one that he's the leader of."

"How can he? The Air Nomads who don't reside in the Temples are governed, have _been _governed, for centuries by the Councils of the Temples alone. You can't just create a new Council! And besides, we have on our Elders. They govern us well enough!" replied Alimah with vehemently.

"Alimah, you know there's been talk of creating another Council here ever since, well, probably since the days of Avatar Kuruk! You have to admit, there is some sense in it. Those who wish to establish a new Council aren't trying to undermine the governance of the Temple Councils, but to enforce them! You know our clans pay no heed to what the Councils say; we've long strayed from their path. Maybe it's up to men like Kahil to bring the sacred ways of the Temple Benders back to our people. Though I must admit, I've heard that some of the women there shave their heads! That's one ancient custom I have no interest in reviving!" Safiyyah finished her lecture with a quiet laugh. Though Alimah felt a strong urge to disagree with her friend, she could see that the girl had strong feelings for Kahil. To argue against Kahil's beliefs would be to argue against the man himself in Safiyyah eyes, which had always been quick to reflect anger, as Alimah knew well.

"Well, anyways, are you anticipating tomorrow's festivities?" asked Alimah, hurriedly changing the subject.

"Oh, Alimah, I simply cannot wait! It's been so long since I've played the _bendir_ with anyone other than my clan! And our Clan Father only allows us to play with those who play our same instrument. It's so exasperating! I've been looking forward to playing with all the different clans for months now!"

A surge of excitement, of passion, of anticipation, and, something, something else, rushed through Alimah's veins. She could feel her pulse quicken, and her heart began pounding like the rhythmic drums of the Airplayers. Whenever talk came upon the musical traditions of the Air Nomads, she could always feel the same thrill coursing her. Ever since that humid day, oh it must have been ten years ago, when the music of the Air Nomads soaring through the sultry air caressed her chaste ears, to the sun-drenched afternoon when she held the _kanoon_ for the first time and stroked its strings, stretched taut with possibilities, she knew that music ran through her blood, was interwoven in her heart like flowers in the hair of the Airdancers.

Every Air Nomad child knew the story of Altair, the story of creation. Yet still, when Alimah remembered it, it sent chills down her spine. Memories of her childhood, spent in days of blazing desert heat and cobalt nights around small campfires, flooded into Alimah's mind. Remembrance of the old storyteller and her haunting tales washes through Alimah's psyche.

_"Come children, gather closer! Come on then, come near the fire. That's it, gather round," the old woman, creased and crumpled like ancient scripts, rasps hoarsely. Around the small campfire sit the Clan's children, about eight in all. Their eyes are glowing with anticipation, and their glassy pupils reflect the dancing flames. _

_"So who here knows the story of Altair?" the storyteller croons softly, as she gazes around at the children. The woman knows that some of the older children have heard this story before, some many times, but all the children sit silently. They all long to listen to it once more. _

_"Well, I suppose I'll have to tell it then. Can't have young Air Nomads going around not knowing the story of Altair, can we now? Umph, umph, umph…" mutters the old storyteller as she settles herself comfortably on the sandy ground. _

_"Once, a long time ago, before there were any Air Nomads, before there were any people at all, our world was inhabited only by animals, plants, and rocks. Together, they all lived in harmony, and the world pulsated with the rhythmic splendor of life. And here, on the islands that now make up the Fire Nation, there was a lush valley where many beautifully wild creatures lived. The wily blades of grass, the burly shrubs, the sprightly rabbit-deer, and flying high above them all, the lissome swallowtail: Altair. High in the creamy heavens soared the swallowtail, sweetly singing its melodies for the entire world to heed. Day in and day out the swallowtails dove and fluttered acrobatically through the air, all the while making music beautiful enough to stop your heart. _

_All that existed on the islands, every sword of meadow, every animal from snake-lizards to rabbit-deer, every valley primrose, even the white-hot sun and the cold, blue moon, adored the swallowtail and reveled in its wondrous ways. So poignantly placed against the glowing sky, free as the wind, beautiful as the sunrise, Altair never ceased to inspire the stirrings of sacredness in the hearts of the desert, bringing light and joy to all._

_But how long could this paradise of bliss last? Not long, I'm afraid, my children, not long at all. The rocks of the valley, so firmly and stoically anchored to the earth grew jealous of the swallowtail flighty life. If only the rocks had realized that for every being there is a purpose, a place in the world, and that for the rocks it was not flight and freedom, but tranquility and stillness. If only the rocks had realized that, then maybe the swallowtail would still be flying through azure skies today. But it was not to be._

_The rocks, calling to each other in low, harsh tones, began to plan how they would eliminate Altair, so that their hearts would never be eaten away by jealousy again. At first they could not think of a way to catch the swallowtail, for they could not pursue the bird into the sky. But they remembered the Altair's love for the world, how he strove every day to make it a more beautiful place, and they knew they had found the swallowtail's weakness. Listen closely, my children, listen closely, for it is here that the rocks do their greatest wrong. When a characteristic of something, be it bird or person, is good and true, and then, in jealousy, it is turned into a weakness, then whoever does the turning is wicked. And here is where the rocks become wicked; in order to tame the jealous fires in their hearts, they exploited the kindness and love of the swallowtail. How, you ask," the old storyteller paused dramatically as she witnessed the confusion on the younger children's faces._

_"Well, I'll tell you. Rocks cannot move far, but they have ancient wisdom to aid them in their sinful pursuit. The rocks remembered the great power from which all rocks are born and which brings all rocks to their death: heat. The heat, that great power, exists within every rock; and together, by clashing and chafing each other, they created a vast, blazing, crackling heat: the first Fire. The Fire, so like the jealousy that ate at the rocks' hearts, ate away at the verdant valley. It ate away at the emerald grasses, trees, and shrubs, the vibrant flowers, jewels decorating the meadows, the animals whose fur singed in the flames. Altair, gliding through the clouds, saw all the suffering of the valley and his heart cried in pain. He flew low and soft down to the valley, singing a heartrending song of melancholy. _

_'Who does this cruelty to the lovely valley?' he cried, as the last of the tall trees fell to ashes._

_'Who wishes to harm all that is beautiful?' he sang, as the whimpers of the scorched fauna rose in the wind._

_And the rocks replied, low and in unison, that they were the creators of the Fire and that the Fire would not cease until the swallowtail gave up its freedom and abandoned the world forever. Altair, so saddened by the tortures afflicted upon his valley agreed at once to abscond from the valley with his music and his dancing. It was only that night, as he perched upon a charred branch, as the great Fire slowly died down to coals, as he surveyed the bleak, desert remains of the valley, that he realized that there would be no one to spread the joy and love that he had once. There would be no one to sing and dance in the sky as he once had. How would the valley return to its splendor, become the once merry place of music again, without the swallowtail? And at once, Altair knew what he must do._

_Under the watchful eye of the moon, he flew down to a nearby stream. With his feathery wings, he gathered piles of dirt. With his small beak, he gathered puddles of the stream water. With now burnt talons, he gathered remains of the Fire. And then with all his heart and soul, he gathered the winds of the world, swirling and twirling, churning and turning, and in the midst of the grand cyclone he had created, a two new creatures emerged: the first man and woman, the first human to walk the world. _

_Altair knew that there must be someone to carry on his music and his dance, the music and dance that created the rhythm that all life played along to. It was in this need that the first humans were created, and Altair taught them how to use the air as he did to dance in the skies and create beautiful music. Thus the first Air Nomads learned about Songbending, and this is why the Air Nomads continue with Songbending to this day. Whether you learn to Airdance or Airplay, you will be a part of what the great Altair left behind. Though he is gone from this place, his spirit remains, in the hearts of the Air Nomads. Here in the desert of Bunmaki, we will stir the air with our Songbending until one day, perhaps, the lush valley will return and all creatures can live in bliss again. Until then, aihya," the old storyteller sighed, slowly getting to her feet, "I think it's high time for you children to prepare for bed!"_

_As the youngsters scurry off with amazed looks upon their innocent faces, the old storyteller sighs as she gazes off into the starry night. A young Alimah crouches in the shadows, watching her, pondering the story she had just heard._

And with a jolt, Alimah is whisked back to the present.

**Author's Note****: Hello, readers! I hope you like the second chapter of "My Little Bird". Please review if you can; this is my first fan fiction, actually my first story ever, so any advice/comments/suggestions/etc. would be greatly appreciated! **

**I hope no one out there is confused, because most of the first part of this story comes mostly from my imagination. I always wondered what life as an Air Nomad would be like, and we are shown so very few clips of Airbenders before the genocide. It leaves a lot up to interpretation! **

**Just a quick comment from me: although the first part of this story will not relate too much to the present time/characters/events of the show, I promise you, it will eventually! Right now the details are sketchy, but the Alimah's story will mesh with the Gaang ultimately! **

**Thank you, and good night!**


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